He resumes scrolling through Loris’ Instagram account under the table and screenshots a post from a few weeks back, to enlarge it and study every detail. It’s an empyrean drawing of a stunning young woman with ebony hair and round lips. Not that her mouth is visible in this specific piece, where her bare back is a canvas of lights and shadows. But Charles has already seen her many times, in digitalworks, in pencil drawings and on the bridge framed inside the flat. Whether she’s a real model or a product of Loris’ imagination, she’s his main source of inspiration.
‘You’re in my seat, Spencer.’
Elsy is stunning too in an emerald dress, her hair up, Audrey Hepburn style. Spencer taps his lap with a silly smile, and she whacks the back of his head before holding her hand out to Charles.
‘Let’s dance.’
‘Now?’
Only four couples are swaying on the dance floor. The hundred eyes fixed on them become x-rays the second Charles pictures himself there.
‘Or never. We’ll dash after Alex gets his chocolate fix, won’t we?’
Alex confirms, so Charles stands up, because his friends’ eyes are fixed on him. Who knows? His parents might disregard his blatant support to the Chén family if they hear that he shined with Elsy.
‘Could you act a tad annoyed when Spencer hits on me?’ she asks when they’re far enough away from the table.
‘The guys wouldn’t believe it bothers me.’
‘But he’d stop.’
‘I doubt it.’
Lying to his friends about his love life on a daily basis is already tedious, Charles refuses to overdo it.
He wraps his arms around Elsy’s waist and closes his eyes.
No one is watching. They’re alone in the world, dancing in his room. He’s happy to. He’s fine.
‘I had a thought earlier in class. We should take things up a notch and look at flats.’
Charles jumps and trips on his own foot. ‘Why? You want your family to start fantasising about the next step, meaning me gettingdown on one knee?’
‘No, but imagine the freedom for us!’
‘We can’t afford a decent place yet, based on… the little I know about it. I’m overpaid at the firm, but that’s only until July, and you won’t earn any—’
‘Come on, can’t you picture Catriona and Milton racing to the bank to help us?’
‘Yes, I can, and he’d win that race, so no.’ Charles pulls back, panic travelling through him like a bolt of lightning. ‘No way. It wouldn’t be freedom, but an extra leash. I can’t owe him my way out. I can’t! That’d be like moving into another cage and—’
‘Alright, Chips. Alright.’ Elsy forces a smile to belie their current energy to the audience. ‘I’m sorry I sprang that on you. But it’s part of our long-term plan, isn’t it? To make our lives easier.’
‘I don’t know.’
It won’t get easier. They can’t have it both ways. They think they’re in control, but they will wake up one day stuck in the trap they set up themselves. Elsy’s hand on his neck feels like a trap right now, and the sensation makes Charles’ breath catch. She’s meant to be oxygen. She needs to remain oxygen or he will suffocate for good.
‘Forget about it,’ she whispers between kisses pressed below his ear. ‘Should we go ice-skating tomorrow night? You love ice—’
‘I’m fine, Els. And I can’t tomorrow.’
‘Plans with the lads?’
‘With myself… I’d like to write. I’ve had ideas lately.’
‘That’s great! Do you want to tell me more?’
‘No, not just yet.’
